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Wales Poetry

The Withered Leaf
Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ...

The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...

The Rose Of Llan Meilen
Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i...

The Holly Grove
Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ...

To The Daisy
Oh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest,...

The Battle Of Gwenystrad
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe...

Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...

The Faithful Maiden
At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi...

The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...

Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan
Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt...

Glan Geirionydd
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ...

Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...

The Monarchy Of Britain
Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h...

The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...

The Vengeance Of Owain {96}
Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ...

The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife
Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win...

To The Lark
"Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the...

Walter Sele
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...



Taliesin's Prophecy






Category: The Patriotic.

A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,
O Cambria! thus thy prophet bard, thy Taliesin sung,
The path of unborn ages is trac'd upon my soul,
The clouds, which mantle things unseen, away before me roll.

A light, the depths revealing, hath o'er my spirit passed;
A rushing sound from days to be swells fitful on the blast,
And tells me that for ever shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.

Green island of the mighty! {87a} I see thine ancient race
Driv'n from their fathers' realm, to make the rocks their dwelling place!
I see from Uthyr's {87b} kingdom the sceptre pass away,
And many a line of bards and chiefs, and princely men decay.

But long as Arvon's mountains shall lift their sovereign forms,
And wear the crown to which is giv'n dominion o'er the storms,
So long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.





Next: The Monarchy Of Britain

Previous: The Battle Of Gwenystrad



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